CHAPTER 4: BENEATH THE SURFACE

The late morning light pierced the canopy, turning the dewdrops on the leaves around her into tiny prisms. Eleanor's feet sank into a carpet of moss so thick it felt like walking on clouds. Ancient oaks towered overhead, their trunks wider than any she'd seen before, bark deeply furrowed and draped with curtains of pale green lichen.

When they'd first entered the forest there had been mist clinging to the ground, swirling with each step she took and lending an ethereal quality to the scenery, but it had long since burned off in the daylight.

"Look at these mushrooms." Eleanor crouched beside a fallen log. "They're glowing like you, Puck."

Puck hovered near the bioluminescent fungi, his own pink glow reflecting off their surface.

"They smell sweet, too. Like the fruit in the cellar, but not quite the same," he observed.

A bird call echoed through the branches above — three ascending notes that seemed to hang in the air, singing about the great nest he was building and would anyone looking for a strong, healthy provider like to come see it? Eleanor tilted her head, listening. It was so clearly a song, but so clearly something more complicated, with layers no birdsong had ever held before.

There was a background buzz of insects chatting happily about the bounty of rotten vegetation, quiet conversations harbored in their droning hum. A constant rustling carried through the underbrush, tiny voices scurrying about with greetings for each other, as rodents and other small creatures carried out their morning errands.

"I've never heard anything like this place."

"There's so much life here." Puck drifted between patches of filtered sunshine, his wings stirring motes of golden light. "Can you feel it? It's like the trees are breathing."

Eleanor nodded, trailing her fingers along rough bark as she walked. The air felt potent, charged with something she couldn't name. Ferns unfurled at her feet, their delicate fronds brushing her ankles. Flowers, with colors and varieties she'd never seen grew in abundance from the rich, dark earth.

Another bird call sounded, farther away this time. A female blasting a rude staccato of trills, and she was telling the first bird to give it a rest already, everyone knew he was a nest-wrecker. All around them cackles and caws rang out, laughing as the song concluded, a merry symphony of noise. Eventually the birds grew silent and the only sound remaining was Eleanor's footsteps on the soft earth. She noticed Puck's glow shifting from content pink to uncertain yellow.

"The forest..." he whispered, antennae twitching. "It's very full of birds."

Eleanor held her arms open in wordless invitation and Puck flew into her embrace, nestling against the collar of her shirt while shooting suspicious looks at the trees above them.

Eleanor didn't have a watch, but she felt they must have run ten minutes or more when they'd first entered the forest, convinced that the men and their dog were still giving chase. It had taken that long for the fear to stop pumping her legs, for her to slow down and think more rationally.

Eleanor had no idea where they were.

Not just in this forest, but on the planet Earth.

She hadn't recognized any of the written words in the house they'd left behind, nor the language Peters and Hawthorne had spoken. She'd never found any maps or context clues, either.

The forest around them felt just as alien as the house had, just as mysterious.

She thought some things looked similar, but closer inspection always seemed to reveal more differences than familiarities. It was lush, and green, and completely isolated. Perhaps she was somewhere in South America? But even that didn't feel quite right.

If there was a forest full of talking animals, surely the whole world would know about it.

She'd wandered without a real plan other than 'Don't get caught by the bad men and their dog', which seemed to rule out going straight back to the house.

"Eleanor?"

"Mmm?"

"Eleanor….it's gotten very quiet."

Eleanor stopped walking and tilted her head, listening. She realized he was right. The hum of insects had faded, the underbrush was mute. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, leaving the leaves unnaturally still.

Silence.

Puck's light pulsed between yellow and green as he settled on her shoulder. The morning's golden quality had turned to murky afternoon, the sun higher now and the shadows between the trees looked deeper, more absolute.

"Maybe we should keep moving," Eleanor murmured. She had been considering a break after the last few hours of walking without any plan, but something about the stillness of the forest around them felt too foreboding to linger.

Eleanor knew they had to rest and talk about where to spend the night; to decide if they should try to return to the shelter of the house or if they should stop and find a spot in the woods around them. But every time she slowed down, the tension in her shoulders and the feeling that they were being watched intensified so deeply that Eleanor couldn't bring herself to stop.

So they walked.

Another hour passed until fatigue killed any conversation left in them, and they trudged in silence.

Eleanor had never felt so bleak in all her life.

She passed the time in quiet misery, dreaming about all the creature comforts she'd taken for granted just days before. Warm food, soft beds, walls and roofs and shoes and proper toilets. Books. Oh how she wished she were back in her own room, waiting for Mom to come and bring her a snack after a quiet afternoon of reading.

The shadows stretched longer as afternoon light filtered through the leaves. Eleanor's steps slowed, her muscles aching in a way that told her she'd have to stop soon no matter how she felt about it, when the back of her neck began to prickle and a chill flowed slowly down her spine.

Something was wrong.

The forest's silence had deepened, becoming a physical weight that pressed against her ears.

Puck's glow shifted to a sickly yellow, casting weird shadows across the tree trunks. His light made the shadows between the trees jump. Eleanor's heart picked up speed.

"We need to move," Puck croaked suddenly. "Now."

The shadows rippled. Not with wind — there was no breeze. They rippled like water being disturbed by something large passing just beneath the surface. Eleanor's feet felt rooted to the ground as Puck's light made the forest pulse with jagged shadows.

A twig snapped. Not the clean break of a falling branch, but the deliberate crack of weight being shifted. Eleanor's breath caught in her throat.

"Don't. Turn. Around." Puck whispered, as if seeing the monster would make it more real. Puck's glow dimmed to barely a flicker, his wings humming at a pitch that made Eleanor's teeth ache.

But she had to know.

The pressure of being watched was too intense to resist. As Eleanor started to turn her head, Puck darted in front of her face.

"Please," he whispered. "It's been following us for a while but it hasn't done anything. Let's just ignore it and keep walking, maybe it will go away."

The warning came too late.

As she looked beyond Puck into the gloom between two ancient trees, a pair of eyes opened. They glowed in a way that had nothing to do with reflected sunshine — a deep, hungry orange that reached straight into Eleanor's hind-brain and lit up every warning like a collection of neon lights.

Eleanor ran.

Her bare feet found every root and stone, sending jolts of pain up her legs. The creature's footfalls pounded behind them, each impact making the ground shudder.

"Left!" Puck's glow flickered ahead like a terrified beacon. "There's a gap—"

She dove through a narrow space between two trunks. Branches clawed her arms, tore at her already tattered clothes. The thing behind them crashed through the trees instead, splintering wood.

"I love it when they run," it said from far too close behind them. It had a breathy, female voice that betrayed the ease with which it gave chase. Eleanor's pulse spiked wildly at that revelation — she barely had any power left in her trembling limbs, and whoever was chasing them didn't even sound winded.

"Down!" Puck cried.

Eleanor dropped, rolling under a fallen log as something whistled through the air where she had just been. Puck darted back, wings humming with strain.

"She's getting closer—" His voice cracked. "I see a ravine ahead, we can—"

Her foot caught a root. She pitched forward, hands scraping against rough bark as she caught herself. Puck's light swung wildly as he circled back.

"Keep going! I'll distract her!"

"No!" Eleanor grabbed for him, fingers closing on empty air as he zipped past her shoulder. His tiny form vanished into the gloom.

A cry bubbled up in her chest but Eleanor forced her burning legs to move. Each breath felt like fire. They had run into the deepest part of the woods, where the canopy grew so thick the world was cast into a perpetual twilight. She couldn't see where she was going without Puck's light but she could hear the roar of rushing water in the distance, and she blindly struggled towards it.

His glow flashed between trees to her right. "This way!"

She changed direction, stumbling over uneven ground, branches whipping her face. She imagined she could feel the creature's hot breath stirring her hair and panic gave her a new burst of speed.

Puck's voice came from somewhere ahead: "Jump when I say!"

Eleanor's muscles screamed. She couldn't run much longer and he wanted her to jump?! The ground dropped away sharply in front of her — the ravine. Puck's light bobbed urgently ahead.

"Almost there! Get ready!" Puck's voice was almost completely lost beneath the thunder of rushing water, echoing up from the stony cliffs in front of her. Puck had led her to a point where the two sides of the ravine almost touched. Could she make it?

Behind her, claws scrabbled on stone and the beast released a roar that shook leaves from the trees. Eleanor's heart hammered against her ribs and her vision narrowed to Puck's desperate glow.

Puck flickered erratically, casting wild shadows that made the forest writhe. In one strobe-like flash, Eleanor caught a glimpse of sleek metal — curved and deadly sharp — before darkness swallowed it again.

Another flash: massive paws, each bigger than her head, tipped with claws that gouged the earth. The creature moved with liquid grace despite its stout size, each step precisely placed.

Silent.

Hunting.

Eleanor ran full tilt with the last of her strength, breaking through the tree line, but brutal exhaustion made her doubt the jump and she skidded to a halt just before the edge. Every limb trembled with exertion. If the beast didn't kill her, she might die from the pain of escaping it.

Unable to stop the tremors that racked her body, Eleanor turned towards the trees, gulping down breaths that felt hot against her raw throat. She watched the beast slowly emerge from the brush.

The creature walked on two stubby limbs, low to the ground and feline in form. She had a broad chest covered in iron-gray fur that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. Plates of natural armor gleamed dully along her shoulders and spine.

Her face was like a nightmarish version of a house cat, wrong in the worst possible ways. Metal spikes sprouted from her head like a crown of thorns, wickedly sharp. Her eyes blazed orange, pupils contracted to predatory slits. When she opened her mouth, Eleanor saw rows of teeth that would put any lion to shame.

The beast smiled at her, so much like a Cheshire cat that Eleanor felt a desperate, powerful need to be anywhere else, far away from that horrible grin.

A rumbling purr vibrated through Eleanor's bones, so deep she felt it more than heard it. This was no ordinary forest predator. This was something else — something that combined feline grace with metallic horror.

"That was such a fun chase, little mouse, but its time finish the hunt," her voice oozed across the distance between them, but her eyes never left Eleanor's face. She paused, something akin to recognition passing over her, then she tilted her head and grinned wickedly. "Oh? Brutus was right, you do understand us. Curiouser and curiouser. That could make this hunt so easy, pet. I wouldn't have to hurt you at all, I could simply tell you to come with me."

She raised one heavy paw, and extended it towards Eleanor in a mockery of invitation. Claws the length of daggers erupted from each finger.

"I could, but I won't."

Puck's wing-buzz took on a desperate pitch. His light strobed frantically, creating a disorienting effect as the monster flowed through patches of illumination. One moment hidden in shadow, the next revealed in motion: a flash of claws, the gleam of metal, the burning eyes.

"Eleanor!" Puck's voice cracked with terror. "Jump! Jump across! You can't stay there! Her legs are too short, she can't follow!"

The beast moved like oil over water, each motion perfectly controlled. Eleanor's chest tightened as she took one final, steadying breath. Then Eleanor did the bravest thing she'd ever done in all her young life: She turned her back on the beast

Eleanor pivoted quickly, searching out her partner's desperate face. Puck was hovering over the other side of the ravine, illuminating a stone lip a bit lower than the side she stood on. There was no time to consider if the gap was manageable, no time to decide whether or not Eleanor had energy for the attempt.

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She took the last four steps at a careless run and jumped, arms outstretched to catch the lip other side.

She hung in the air for one breathless moment, fingers grasping.

Nothing.

"ELEANOR!"

She gasped, not even having time to scream, then slammed into the icy water below.

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Eleanor's small fingers wrapped tight around Mama's hand as they walked through the front gate. They were going to a party today, and if Eleanor was a very good girl Mama had promised to take her to the library on the way home.

She was determined to try her best but the carnival atmosphere was a bit scary — red and blue balloons bobbed against the sky like giant bubbles. The summer air buzzed with laughing kids and splashing sounds. Grown ups added to the noise with talking and yelling.

"Look at all the pretty decorations, sweetie," Mama said, her voice warm like sunshine.

Eleanor pressed closer to Mama's leg.

The concrete felt hot through her sandals. Music thumped from somewhere, hurting her ears.

Eleanor caught a whiff of sweet birthday cake, which distracted her, and she almost tripped when two kids ran right in front of her and Mama. Careless of the havoc they caused they ran past shrieking with laughter, part of some noisy game that involved balloons.

Eleanor stared after the two, frowning. That was not good girl library behavior.

Then she saw it.

The pool stretched out huge and blue, bigger than anything she'd ever seen. The water sparkled like diamonds under the sun, but something about how deep it looked made her tummy feel funny. She gripped Mama's hand harder.

"Want to go see the other kids playing?" Mama pointed to the shallow end where children splashed and giggled under the watchful eyes of the nearby grown-ups.

Eleanor shook her head, dark braids swishing. The other kids looked so small in all that water, and the adults in their midst didn't look much safer. Their arms moved like windmills as they kicked and played. One boy had bright orange water wings that reminded her of fish fins. She'd never been in big water before, but it didn't look very safe.

"That's okay, we can just watch for now." Mama squeezed her hand back.

Eleanor's toes curled inside her sandals as she saw a beach ball bounce across the surface. The water made everything look wobbly, like the mirror in the fun house at the fair. She didn't like how she couldn't see the bottom in the deep end — it was just dark blue nothing.

A loud splash made Eleanor jump.

The kid being chased had run right to the water's edge and leapt in, making a great wave leave the boundary of the pool. Water droplets hit her legs, cold little pinpricks on her skin. She quickly wiped them away with her free hand.

"Here, let's get some cake," Mama said, leading her towards the picnic tables. Eleanor followed gladly, but couldn't help glancing back at the pool one more time.

Mama dished her up on a paper plate. Eleanor stood on her tip toes, eating bites of the chocolate treat from the plate Mama had set on the bench, so it was easier to reach.

A man's deep laugh cut through the party noise.

Eleanor peeked around Mama's leg to see a tall figure striding toward the pool, young boy bouncing beside him. The man and the boy both wore brightly patterned swim clothes, making their destination clear.

"Time for your big moment, champ!" The father clapped his hand on the boy's narrow shoulders.

The birthday boy — older than Eleanor but she didn't know how old — gave a wobbly smile. His swimming trunks were decorated with cartoon sharks, but he looked more like a frightened tadpole as his father guided him to the pool's edge.

Eleanor's throat went tight. The water seemed darker now, hungrier. She pressed her face into Mama's sundress, breathing in the familiar scent of herbs that clung to it.

"Remember what we practiced?" The man's voice carried across the yard. "Deep breath, jump in, kick those legs!"

The boy nodded, but his whole body trembled. Other parents gathered around, their encouraging calls mixing into a dull roar in Eleanor's ears. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she watched through her fingers.

"One... two..." The father counted.

The boy's feet curled over the concrete edge. His chest heaved with quick, shallow breaths.

"Three!"

A push.

A splash.

The crowd cheered.

Eleanor's stomach lurched as the boy vanished beneath the surface.

Seconds stretched like taffy. Bubbles burst on the water's surface. The boy's head emerged with a gasp, arms flailing. His face was a mask of panic as he bobbed up and down, struggling to keep his mouth above water.

"That's it! Kick harder!" The father beamed with pride while his son thrashed.

Eleanor's legs went weak. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't look away. The world narrowed to the desperate splashing, the boy's wide eyes, the adults' excited cheers mixing with her pulse pounding in her ears.

"You're doing great, buddy! Keep going!"

Eleanor had recently learned about fish and other sea creatures the last time Daddy had returned from 'work' and took the time to read with her. That meant she fully understood what she was watching, even if the cheering grown ups didn't.

People weren't like fish.

People couldn't breathe under the water.

The boy couldn't breathe under the water.

Her eyes darted between all the grown ups, fear clutching her heart. Someone had to save the boy, but no one was helping him! They were going to watch him stay in the water and cheer and yell until he stopped breathing and went away to the live with the ancestors forever!

Eleanor stumbled backward, her sandals catching on the concrete. The table's edge rammed into her spine as she collided with it, sending paper plates and plastic forks scattering. A half-empty cup of punch tipped, spreading red across the white tablecloth like blood in water.

The pool's splashing echoed in her head, and on reflex she reached out to grip Mama's hand, coming away with empty air. Eleanor whirled one the spot, tears gathering in her eyes. She'd lost Mama. Her first sob was drowned out by the boy's gasps and the grown up's cries of encouragement.

She had to find Mama. Had to get away.

Her feet tangled as she spun around, searching the crowd. Everything blurred together as she began to cry in earnest — faces, voices, the endless blue of the pool stretching behind her like a monster's mouth.

She spotted Mama nearby, talking with a group of ladies and stumbled over as quickly as possible.

"There you are!" A woman's voice cut through the chaos. "What a perfect day for swimming. Eleanor must be excited to join in!"

"No!" Eleanor latched onto her mother's leg, fingers digging into the soft fabric. "Don't wanna go water. Please no!"

Mama's hand found her shoulder. "My little butterfly, what—"

"Swimming's good for you!" Another mom called out. "Tommy learned in just one afternoon."

Eleanor pressed her face deeper into her mother's dress, shoulders shaking. The birthday boy's splashing still filled her ears. "Please, Mama. Please we go?"

She felt her mother shift, heard the awkward pause.

"I'm so sorry," Mama said to the other parents. "She's not feeling well. We should probably head home."

Murmurs of disappointment rippled through the group. Eleanor didn't care. Relief flooded through her as Mama's hand clasped hers, leading her toward the gate.

"Such a shame," someone whispered. "Kids need to learn..."

But they were already moving past the pool, past the balloons and cake. Eleanor's chest loosened with each step away from the water. Her fingers remained locked around her mother's hand until they reached the car.

Mama helped her buckle in and Eleanor finally began to unclench as Mama got in the car and they began to drive away.

Oh.

Telling the adults no probably wasn't what a Good Girl would do. Now that the possibility of being thrown in the pool was gone and she had time to think, she looked down at her lap, frowning hard. She hadn't been a Good Girl. Eleanor wilted as she realized Mama would be taking her straight home.

"Do you know what I think?" asked Mama, looking at her through the rear view mirror.

Eleanor shrugged in her seat, feeling too disappointed to talk.

"I think brave little butterflies like you deserve a new book to read."

Eleanor's eyes snapped to the mirror, meeting Mama's gentle smile. She….she was still a Good Girl? Even though she had been afraid watching the boy in the pool? Even though she never, ever, ever wanted to go in the pool herself?

Eleanor kicked her feet happily, humming as she watched the scenery pass by her window in a beautiful streak of watercolor blurs. Mama had even called her brave.

She had the best Mama in the world.

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The rapids seized Eleanor with savage force. Her body slammed against hidden rocks, each impact driving precious air from her lungs. The glacial water knifed through her clothes, numbing her limbs in seconds.

Up became down. The current dragged her under, tumbling her like a rag doll. Her lungs screamed and dark spots danced behind her eyes. Just as panic clawed up her throat, the river spat her to the surface.

One desperate gasp. Then back under.

Puck's bell-like voice pierced through the roar.

"Eleanor!" His glow blazed a vibrant, terrified yellow.

She vanished again beneath the foam.

Her fingers clawed at nothing. Water rushed up her nose, down her throat. The cold penetrated to her bones, sapping strength from the very core of her being. She kicked wildly, searching for anything solid.

Another burst to the surface. Half a breath. The rapids reclaimed her.

"Hold on!" Puck darted over the churning water, his tiny wings beating frantically. He dove toward her outstretched hand, but his gossamer touch had no strength to fight the current.

Eleanor's head broke the surface again. She retched river water, tried to scream. The sound died as the rapids dragged her down once more. Her waterlogged clothes pulled her deeper. Rocks tore at her legs. Everything spun.

"Please!" Puck's glow flickered wildly as he watched her disappear and resurface. His wings strained as he attempted to lift her by her hair, managing only to hover helplessly as the river ripped her away once more.

Up for air. Eleanor's lungs burned. Her vision dimmed. Down into the icy darkness.

The current slammed her against another rock. Pain exploded through her shoulder. Water filled her mouth. She couldn't tell which way led to air anymore.

Eleanor suddenly crashed into a fallen log. Her fingers scraped desperately across waterlogged bark, finding no purchase. Each breath came in ragged gasps between waves of icy water. Her muscles screamed, every stroke weaker than the last.

"Can't..." The word dissolved into choking coughs. Her sodden clothes dragged her down like lead weight.

Puck's glow shifted from sickly yellow to a nauseating green as he darted above her. His wings hummed with desperate energy.

"Eleanor, please! Just a hold on!"

Her shoulder throbbed where the rocks had struck and each kick felt like moving through concrete. The cold had stolen the strength from her limbs, leaving only exhaustion. She managed to hook one arm over the log, but the current yanked her legs sideways, threatening to tear her grip loose.

Water rushed over her face. She sputtered, spitting out river water mixed with bile. Her vision blurred. The roar of the rapids seemed distant now, muffled by the pounding in her ears.

Puck's frantic circles grew wider as he searched the riverbank. His green glow cast sickly shadows across the churning water. "There has to be something, anything..."

Eleanor's fingers began to slip. She couldn't feel them anymore, couldn't tell if they were still gripping the log or if the current had already won. Her chest burned, each breath coming shorter than the last.

Through his panic-stricken haze, Puck's gaze locked onto something upstream. A massive oak stretched over the water, its thick branches reaching across the rapids like gnarled fingers. His glow flickered with sudden purpose.

"Hold on!" He shot toward the tree, wings beating furiously. "Just hold on!"

Puck strained to reach the tree faster than he'd ever moved before, his little body a colorful, fuzzy bullet. A strange tingling sensation was spreading from the tips of his wings to the ends of his straining legs. Something pulled at his abdomen — an instinct he didn't know he had. Without conscious thought, silk began flowing from his thorax.

His glow flickered between yellow surprise and determined pink as he shot toward the oak tree. The silk streamed behind him, stronger than steel thread yet lighter than cotton. He looped around a thick branch, wrapping the thread several times before diving back toward Eleanor.

Her grip on the log weakened with each passing second. The current pulled at her legs, threatening to tear her away. Puck's heart raced as he spiraled down, trailing his lifeline.

"Grab it!" He hovered inches from her face, the silk dancing in the wind.

Eleanor's fingers fumbled, numb and clumsy. The thread slipped through once, twice. On the third try she managed to wrap it around her wrist. The silk held firm, unexpectedly strong for something so delicate.

Inch by agonizing inch Eleanor pulled herself toward shore. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion. The current fought her every movement, trying to drag her back into its deadly embrace.

Puck darted alongside, his glow shifting between determined pink and anxious yellow.

"Almost there! Keep going!" His voice held a desperate edge, as though he might burst into tears at any moment.

Eleanor's feet finally scraped bottom. With one last surge of strength, she dragged herself onto the muddy bank. She collapsed face-first into the dirt and rocks, coughing up river water.

Puck landed on her shoulder, his glow radiating warm, pink relief. The silk connecting them to the oak tree dissolved into sparkling motes, carried away on the breeze.

"Eleanor! Oh, Eleanor!" He fluttered about her, sobbing with joy, alighting on different spots and anointing her with miniature tears.

Eleanor couldn't move, not even to drag herself the rest of the way out of the water. Little eddies from the river still lapped at her numb feet, as if disappointed with the loss of its prize.

Ragged breaths were broken by wet, hacking coughs, ending in another flood of river water being vomited up. She felt as if she'd swallowed half the river.

Time lost meaning.

Eleanor breathed.

She drifted off.

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Consciousness returned in fragments. Cold. So cold. Eleanor's teeth chattered violently, her body convulsing against mud-caked riverbank. Night had fallen, leaving only Puck's worried pink glow to illuminate their surroundings.

Her clothes were gone, she didn't know when or why. She curled tighter, trying to preserve what little warmth remained. Each breath brought fresh shivers.

"Eleanor?" Puck's voice quavered. He landed on her shoulder, his usual bright pink dimmed to a worried rose. "Please wake up properly."

She tried to respond but managed only a weak groan. Her throat felt scraped raw from river water and vomiting. Puck zipped back and forth above her, trailing strands of sticky silk that dissolved almost immediately in the damp air.

"No, no, that's not right." His glow flickered between frustrated purple and determined pink. "Has to be thinner, stronger..."

Eleanor drifted, caught between waking and dreams. The mud seemed to pull at her, drawing her down into its cold embrace.

More failed attempts at creating silk followed, each strand either too sticky or too fragile. Puck's wings hummed with increasing desperation until finally — success. A gossamer thread emerged, floating like spun sugar in the night air.

Working frantically, he wove back and forth above Eleanor, creating an intricate lattice that settled over her like morning frost. Layer upon layer, the silk blanket grew thicker, trapping her precious body heat.

Through half-lidded eyes, Eleanor watched Puck's pink glow dance above her. The sight triggered a memory — her father's desk lamp, casting warm light across star charts while he worked late into the night.

"Just one more calculation, little squire," he'd say, his pen scratching endless equations. "We're so close..."

The fever dreams pulled her under, back to those rare nights of watching him work, while Puck continued his desperate weaving in the dark.

Eleanor drifted in and out, each awakening marked by Puck's frantic spinning above her. The silk blanket dissolved steadily in the damp night air, forcing him to maintain a constant vigil of replacement threads.

Her eyes flickered open, catching the unfamiliar constellations through gaps in the forest canopy. The stars were different. The patterns her father had drilled into her since she could walk — Orion's belt, the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia's chair — none of them existed here.

"Look," she croaked, raising a trembling finger skyward. "The Hunter's missing."

"Where?!" Puck paused his weaving, hovering closer. "What hunter?!"

"Three bright stars..." Her voice cracked. "Always in a row. Dad said they never move, never change. But they're gone."

Her father's voice echoed through the fever haze: "The stars are our map, Eleanor. No matter where you go, they'll guide you home."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, hot against her cold skin. These alien patterns held no guidance, no comfort.

No way home.

Puck's glow shifted to worried purple. "Why are you crying? Does something hurt?"

"It's not Earth," she whispered. "I'm lost."

Eleanor curled tighter beneath the blanket of silk, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. How could she explain to this creature who'd never known Earth's sky? Never traced constellations with small fingers while perched on her father's shoulders? She'd had her first brush of fearful epiphany in the observatory.

What scientist would put the wrong solar system on the orrery unless it wasn't the wrong solar system?

What if she wasn't in South America?

What if she wasn't even on Earth?

Eleanor sobbed quietly in the darkness, a deep, gripping loneliness pulling down her very being. Puck paused above her, hovering fretfully.

"Keep working," she sobbed. "Please."

Puck resumed his weaving, though his confused glances showed he sensed a deeper pain he couldn't comprehend. The silk threads sparkled in his pink light, like falling stars in the foreign sky above.

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The first hints of dawn crept through the canopy, pale light mixing with Puck's steady pink glow. Eleanor's shivering had finally ceased, her breathing deep and even beneath the silk cocoon. The fever dreams had released their grip, letting her slip into a more natural sleep.

Puck's wings drooped as he wove another layer, his movements tired but still determined. Hours of constant silk production had drained him, yet his protective instinct wouldn't let him rest. The morning dew settled on his down, making each wingbeat heavier than the last.

Birdsong filtered through the trees, full of morning greetings and songs about the beauty of the coming day — he ignored them, far too busy to indulge his personal fears. The rhythmic sound of Eleanor's breathing helped ease Puck's anxiety.

His glow brightened at the thought that she might be feeling better. When she had gone under the water that last time before the log, he'd thought it would be the final time he ever saw her. He couldn't begin to understand how much strength it must have taken to pull herself from the river.

Eleanor was…she was everything. She was strong and smart and brave and she didn't care that Puck was stupid and didn't know words and asked questions and was afraid of birds. He felt his thorax tighten as he choked down a sob.

Eleanor was his partner, he didn't have anything without her. She made it okay that he didn't remember anything, that he didn't know who or where or what he was.

Sunlight painted Eleanor's face in warm patches through the leaves. Color had returned to her cheeks, replacing the alarming pallor of the night. She stirred slightly, mumbling something about stars before settling deeper into sleep.

Puck landed on a nearby patch of mud, his tiny body trembling with exhaustion. The silk blanket would hold for a while now that the air was warming. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he surveyed their surroundings one final time.

The river's roar had faded to a background hum. No pursuing footsteps, no prowling huntress, no danger in sight. Just the peaceful morning forest stretching in every direction.

His pink glow pulsed softly as his eyes drifted shut. They were safe.

He slept.